A roaring city shadowed by moon,
Saltwater laps the shore.
In a million years, a simple sand dune,
And a land that knows not war.
We worship artificial gods, designed to entertain;
Music, movies and TV.
We enjoy away our brains.
We’ve never been able to see beyond sight.
We scoff at our own rebirth.
Our arrogance fuels our final flight,
Our wings char, and we fall to earth.

the hollow between her neck and shoulders,
deep like holy water stoup,
has always been sacred to me.

i was sixteen then, foolish and in love.

i wrote her name on every piece of paper
i could find and kept her in my pocket,
showed her what the world looked like in my eyes.

she had something in her, that girl.
perhaps a cross between a crazed butcher and a catholic school kid.
with her you can never tell.

for a brief moment she let me know what heaven tastes like--
she kissed me by the pool and i lost my head.

        time flew like manic Icarus.
     suddenly, as abrupt as somebody braking hard, it was all over.

four years later and i'm still looking for my sanity.

after her
every mouth i kiss
just tastes like chlorine.

Hey
Ok
I know that you know that I can't say "I'm not good with words" because, let's be honest, that's basically the only thing I'm good at.
But what I'm not good at is you.
Or rather, how to use my words with you.
But I used to.
But now I just... I don't know.
Just like how I don't know what happened. How I don't know what I did wrong. How I don't know if I even did something wrong.
It just felt like... I don't actually have a great analogy to explain this but it felt ******.
Ok let me try this analogy.

It kinda felt like an Icarus moment.

Which is funny, given me name right now.
Let me explain.
You know how he died? How all he was doing was enjoying what he had. His freedom. How he never felt that freedom until then and then when he let himself experience it it ended up being his downfall. Literally.
That's what falling for you feels like. How it felt like.
I'm not gonna lie and say I wouldn't have fallen for you, but if things didn't turn out the way they did I'm pretty sure I could say I love you and not feel like I'm lying to myself about it.
I've never met anyone who fit so perfectly with me that it scared me at first.

It's always scary when you fly for the first time, right?

But when I did start falling for you it didn't feel like falling at all it feels like flying. It feels exhilarating and somehow taboo at first. How it feels like something so good should be something I shouldn't do.
But the more I knew you the more I flew. The more I soared high.
What I didn't know back then was that the more I flew, the more it'll hurt when I started falling.

Which I did.

When I needed you the most- no,
When I needed someone the most, you vanished.
Actually you didn't vanish. Which was worst.
It felt like you were there, constantly there, and yet you couldn't be to give me a single glance.

It physically felt like a punch in the heart.

But I guess that's my fault. Yeah. I know it's my fault. It's my fault for thinking you'll be there for me. It's my fault for expecting you'll do to me what I'll do for you.
I keep forgetting that when I confessed my feelings for you to you, you confessed your lack if feelings for me to me.

But this isn't what this whole thing was about.

This isn't a message for my past crush, nor is it for the one I'm pining on. It's a message for my best friend.
This message is for the one who I talked about living together with in London.
This message is for the one who showed me so much music that they knew I'll love
This message is for the one who told me that I loved rain just as much as they did.

This message is for you and this message is a hello or a goodbye, depending on you.

I miss you, unknown.
I miss you fiercely and wholeheartedly.

I miss the idea of you,
the concept of your soft curls against my cheek,
my face tucked into your neck.

I am the longing bull,
huffing and grunting impatiently
with ardent eyes, mouth full of fervor
for your crimson presence.

I am the sailing boat, the fisherman,
humming with quiet and unmoving anticipation
for the melody of your song to ring through space.

I miss you.
I miss you in my fingertips and in my brain.
I miss you in my knees and in the depth of my ***** and
in my ritual I roam through sunny days looking for your cool hands
and on the cold days I freeze on the inside and I do not speak.

I miss everything I don't know about you.
I miss everything I thought I knew about you and
I miss not knowing
and wanting to know.

at times the guilt of it all churns my stomach,
to know that letting go of you may burn me on my soft edges
but might keep whole.
the sting of the brutal realisation that your light is not mine to melt my wings for.

still
time after time
I simply miss you.
I miss the idea of you.
I miss you, unknown.

in my eyes
you were my winged icarus
who kissed the sun
and caressed the waters
of my affection.

but your eyes lingered as you searched for
a second solstice
and the softness of the ocean
in someone else when you thought you deserved a deeper connection.


- t.m

hands raised to the sky as he runs,
young and wild, curious, carefree;
sunlight bleeds through his fingers
not enough,
he wants to touch the sun.
you mustn't get too close, Daedalus warns him
and then Apollo smiles;

it feels like soaring,
being on the receiving end of
something so bright.
full of youth, seduction is easy
i think your mouth would taste like summer
he surrenders
slave to a burning star
forgive me, father

when he flies,
the taste of freedom
is sweet and heavy on his tongue
but you're not really free
sunbeams envelope him
his skin is golden; Apollo's touch is fire
he's never felt so warm
loved

i could destroy you
he's always been reckless
you won't
throws himself into the flames with abandon
it burns; it's violent; it consumes him
this isn't love
defiant, he smiles even as he screams
it's love to me

Apollo watches as he plummets
falling, falling, collapsing, wings singed and broken
gods shouldn't feel this helpless
it was love to me too
the slap of skin,
the crunch of bones breaking in the waves.
nothing could convince him to keep looking
as Daedalus screams
and holds his fallen son

gods bleed ichor,
gold like Apollo's light;
Apollo has eyes like a clear blue sea,
that's what Icarus once told him;
now Icarus paints the ocean,
bleeds scarlet into Poseidon's waters
and the sun god watches.
how fitting that you'd taint the ocean like you tainted me
Apollo's eyes are red from crying

was it worth it?
in the afterlife, he wears scars
where he used to wear wings
i'd fall a thousand times over just to kiss your lips
immortal now, his soul is sun-stroked
they'll write odes to you,
the boy who flew too close to the sun
even in death, his spirit is bright with innocent joy
he laughs
it sounds like Cupid's lyre

let them, he beams. at least i flew.

Encounter shellac where the live oak could balk
in sways of stomata to spare shadow from earth
swaying like Eve in Persephone’s wake
should a frenzy of madrigals
cluster to feast
where her prodigal snake once faced sentience.

A tree grows in reaches long since she passed
fragrant lacking tulips within a thicket of moss.

Now my soul skirts the path of Icarus
to bathe in the cerulean beyond reflection
your eyes have consumed from the sky
like a beast coaxing the blessings of the wind.

I was placed here for you.

A voice lichened in cypress knees carries
with the caress of her woods
pressing me forward
into the dew and new ground
enriched with instinct into the roots of palmettos
shielding the glade of tomorrow
still ripe with blackberries
where she whispers with thistles.

Your eyes, the sun, the way they glint and glare  
I cannot help but see through crystal glass
The way you tempt my mind unto despair,
Longing for something, far now come and passed.
Now I the Icarus, I thought I'd thrive,
Again your mind hath lured me to your soul
But turn away, and I, thine heart deny
A burning love within, I must console.
You do not know the way you pierced my heart,
Mistook my dismal speech for friendly thought-
Whilst I must not my views to you impart,
I see that all my trials lead to naught.
Regardless, in my arms I wish you home
Still welcome here wherever you may roam.

here is something that
mother told me
about god complexes:

“everyone believes themselves
to be gods among men:
even that hideous monster from your
half-remembered Hellenistic dreams
will retreat back to
his craggy hideaway and continue
with his hedonistic ways.
the poor creature:
he will don a halo,
iconize himself in caricatures
pretending that if for a moment
his veins flow ichorous that
Icarus may have envied when his wings
beat in tandem with the footfalls of
the sun chariots’ horses.

“the sun shines upon
hallowed ground, though Polyphemus
will avoid Helios’s scornful gaze.
he herds sheep––his only acolytes––
an unabashed king in his realm,
like a god plays war, or as a child
would play house,
humming hallelujah,
veins running gold-blooded.
when moon rises,
he will hang his weary
shadow at his door and retreat
to his fire-pit. perhaps this will be
the closest he will be to the gods,
basking in the heat of Hestia’s
humble hearth.

“in the end,” mother said,
“Nobody will end up deified.
Icarus may have rained down wax and
feathers in godlike fury
before tilting his head to Helios once more;
Polyphemus waded into the sea,
eyes clouded in godlike fury
before resigning himself to fate, head bowed.”